One thing you can’t call Dan Deacon is boring. That much was made abundantly clear this weekend as he and his “big band” ensemble turned the Ft. Worth Modern’s sculpture garden into a bizarre makeshift playground studded with trippy green skulls, crystal cats and mass foot races. “If he had brought a giant parachute,” a friend of mine noted, “he would have perfectly replicated Kindergarten.”

As succesful as the live-band approach turned out, I’m pretty sure Dan will never be invited back to the Modern. At one point, he organized a crowd-swallowing bastardization of London Bridge which, he stressed, should stretch through the museum itself, past the bathrooms, through the exhibits nearest the sculpture garden, and back out through the other entrance. Needless to say, security put a stop to that. The game stretched out through the garden into what began to resemble Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty, but was rightfully not allowed in the doors of the Modern itself.

The set was airtight and, despite an understandably long set-up process, was executed masterfully. The drummers from highly percussive, noisy post-rockers Teeth Mountain (who, it should be said, were absolutely terrific) helped bring Bromst‘s organic assault full circle into was was a staggering explosion of rhythm and guttural energy.

It goes without saying that seeing Dan Deacon live is a sort of draining experience: beyond the organized sprinting, “sassy-as-fuck” dance contests and massively executed childrens’ games, just being in the presence of such staggering walls of sound is enough to make anyone feel a bit spent afterward.

Unfortunately my camera died just as the first band (Denton’s own Fight Bite) took the stage. Luckily for us, it’s 2009:

The following is proof that music video technology really didn’t need to progress any further than what was available in 1981. Pop culture ephemera: this was the first song to air on BET’s “Video Soul”.

In 2007, Dan Deacon released his first proper studio LP, the oddly-named Spiderman of the Rings. Listening to that album is best envisioned like a trip to Toon Town. But in Deacon’s Toon Town, there is no maniacal Judge Doom. So, instead of fearing death by “The Dip,” all the toons just took copious amounts of ecstasy and held raves in Toon Square.

Sounds like fun.

It is.

So, Deacon took two years and a lot of studio time to record his follow-up, Bromst. A meticulously-crafted electronic odyssey that feels slightly more grown up. But only slightly.

Bromst begins with the slow-build up entitled “Build Voice.” Well played, sir! “Build Voice” sets the standard for the rest of the album: intricately layered cuts that continue to swell for the next 4-6 minutes. Every track is like a countdown to ignition, with a payoff that takes you to another world.

Deacon’s music evokes this child-like splendor. The album’s cover is dead on: a lone tent in the woods, filled with this warm glow for it’s inhabitants. Bromst sounds cute and blissful (“Of The Mountains,” “Woof Woof”) most of the time, but it can also be a deeply intricate brain-feast (“Slow With Horns/Run For Your Life,” “Get Older,” “Snookered.”)

Yeah, I’m gushing over this record, but it is well-deserved. Deacon built off the good foundation he laid with Spiderman of the Rings and made a fantastic record. His song-writing has matured, and he hits on every track. It’s infectious, good-natured and, overall, completely danceable. It’s a great contender for Record of the Year.

So pack your friends inside that happy little tent, and let Bromst take you on a fantastic voyage.

You bring the flashlights and Skittles. I’ll bring Benny the Cab for transportation.

I’m not smart enough to figure out the embedding function on ABC’s video player, so you’ll just have to follow the link here.

Once again, I’m too close to the person behind the music to give you an unbiased review; but, as with Febrifuge’s excellent A Short Instance of Separation, you should really do yourself a favor and check out this big, sticky mess of badassity for yourself.

So this weekend my good friend Nick sent me a text that hipped me to the bounce track “Stanky Leg”. It takes awhile for these things to reach the backwoods of Oklahoma. However, I’m fairly sure I’ve been doin’ the Stanky Legg since back in ’06, so bitches pay up! Catchy and dumb like hepatitis. I’m crankin’ this out my Civic like a stanky wanksta.